


The Scars We Share

by thepencilnerd



Series: Unsailed Harry Potter ships [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Sectumsempra Scene | Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter's Duel in the Bathroom, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Character Death, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Depressed Draco Malfoy, Depression, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friendship/Love, Heavy Angst, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love/Hate, Major Character Injury, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Non-Canon Relationship, Psychological Trauma, Sad Draco Malfoy, Scars, Secret Relationship, Sectumsempra, Sectumsempra (Harry Potter), Sectumsempra Scene | Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter's Duel in the Bathroom, Self-Sacrifice, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepencilnerd/pseuds/thepencilnerd
Summary: Harry isn't the only one to notice Draco rush out of the Great Hall. Something is very, very wrong, and Hermione can't help but follow closely with burning curiosity. One that would turn out to be deadly. What happens when Hermione comes between a deadly duel between her best friend and secret boyfriend?TLDR: My take on what would've happened if Hermione discovered Harry and Draco dueling during 6th year in the boys' bathroom.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Unsailed Harry Potter ships [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100987
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83





	The Scars We Share

**Author's Note:**

> I've fallen back down into my childhood wormhole of unfulfilled Harry Potter ships and obsession. I don't even write for Harry Potter, I just needed to get it out of my system so I could have a peaceful night's sleep. Kudos and comments are much appreciated :) Enjoy my rambles~
> 
> All respective rights go to J.K. Rowling and members of the Harry Potter franchise. I do not own anything but these freeform storytelling shenanigans. 
> 
> Song recs: Windswept by Crywolf |  
> Hurricane by Fleurie

The Great Hall was a boisterous mess of chattering teenagers and intolerable hormones. Hermione's eyes drifted towards Harry and an unfamiliar figure: Katie Bell. The necklace's curse remained a mystery to all of the professors and it had clearly done a number on her. She'd just been released from the hospital and was looking better, to say the least. Dark shadows remained strewn across her otherwise porcelain doll-like face and her body was still regaining strength, but the important thing was that she was alive and better. 

"You alright, Mione?" Ginny asked with a worried tone. Hermione hadn't touched her food since arriving for dinner. "Your eyes seem a tad glassy..."

She shook her head. "I'm fine." Her fork felt like an extension of her restless mind. It continued scraping aimlessly at the now-unappetizing platter of meat, peas, carrots, and what appeared to be roast potatoes—now dubiously _mashed._ Resting her temple on her hand, she shifted in discomfort. "Just feeling off." 

Today wasn't a particularly good day. Scratch that, it had been awful from the very start. The brightest witch of her age, they called her. Little did they know that she had spent her morning transfiguration class faking sick in the bathroom. For the life of her, she couldn't concentrate without zoning out. Two minutes into the start of class and she'd forgotten what the assignment was. Charms and potions were no better. Her distracted state bordered on the edge of hazardous to the point where she'd almost pulled a _Finnegan_. The last time she was this off her game was while Umbridge reigned terror over Hogwarts. Despite that, she still managed to pass her O.W.L.S. with flying colors. Something else was wrong. Something felt dark, and she couldn't put her finger on it. 

Harry's conversation with Katie came to an abrupt halt when he turned around. Hermione's eyes followed Harry's line of sight and landed on a ghostly white frame. Even from across the hall, she felt pain strike her chest. His gaunt features could be seen from a mile away; his once piercingly frost grey eyes now mulled hazy, dull, and lifeless. She knew.

He'd been forced to accept the Mark before the school year began.

He confided in her and she in him.

Hermione knew better than anyone what Draco was going through.

It started 3rd year, not that you'd even believe it. Right after she'd delivered a right proper blow to the foul, loathsome evil little cockroach, the guilt ate at her like a plague for days. It felt good, that was definite. Not to mention he deserved it more than anyone. But Hermione knew she was better than that. Once the shame became too great to handle, she gripped him by the collar after one lunch and whisked him behind the stone pillars. It took all of her courage to set aside that Gryffindor pride and apologize, but she managed to do so with her dignity somewhat intact. With a smug grin and haughty demeanor, the platinum menace agreed to accept her apology on one condition. 

"You and me. One date. To make Parkinson bug off once and for all." 

There was absolutely no reason for her to agree, yet for whatever reason, she did. Maybe some part of her thought it'd be a good way to get back at Ron for his escapades with one of the Ravenclaw girls. Maybe another part of her was feeling unusually impulsive that day. What was supposed to be one fake date at Hogsmeade turned into a series of late-night walks along Black Lake, sneaking up the Astronomy tower to catch shooting stars, and impromptu cuddle sessions in the Room of Requirement. Those lasted much longer than either Hermione or Draco cared to admit. 

Hermione knew she had a responsibility to uphold; to her best friends and the Order. Lying to them was the hardest challenge of loyalty and duty she had to endure, though she knew they wouldn't understand. Draco confided in Hermione his secrets, his essence, and his very being, and she in him. Their relationship was complicated at the core, but if anything was certain, it was that they loved each other for all that they were and everything they weren't. Their souls were now unified under a single plane of irrevocable trust and devotion, one and the same at the core. 

Drawing attention back to the present, the Chosen One and Pureblood Prince glared at one another in a silent battle of dominance. Hermione's eyes bounced back and forth between the two. If her appetite was wavering earlier, it was completely gone now. Before either drew any attention, Draco spun on his heels and swiftly left crowded Hall, his heart thumping against his ribcage like a trapped hummingbird. Harry apologized to Katie almost immediately and excused himself. His feet moved quickly against the cobblestone ground and he too rushed past the wide-open doors. 

Hermione was the only one to notice, everyone else clearly distracted by their own bubbles of social discourse and typical teenage nonsense. 

"I'll be right back," she mumbled to Ginny, not even bothering to look at her before standing up and racing out of her seat. Hermione shoved through unruly clusters of students and didn't waste any time muttering mindless apologies. With eyes glued to the dim edges of Harry's robes, he began running. 

Something was very, very wrong. 

Hermione ran through the passageways as fast as her feet could carry her. At the corner of her eye, she saw the tail of Harry's robe turned a corner and she could swear she was right behind him. However, her pace was no match for Harry's agile steps. Being a Seeker and training with the Quidditch team had its perks. Sprinting through the pitch-black corridors of the sixth floor, Hermione's breathing was heavy and labored. It felt as if her lungs were disintegrating with every breath she took. Suddenly, whimpers echoed from the end of the hall. She knew that cry anywhere. 

There were murmurs and vibrations reverberating through the walls. The young witch pressed her palms against the cold granite and followed them as fast and as silently as she could. A loud crash thundered against her palms and trailed to her fingertips, making her jump. It came from the bathroom. Another sharp whoosh. This time, it sounded like a pipe burst. Water trickled down from the boys' bathroom and formed a puddle beneath Hermione's shoes. She dashed upstream toward the source and was struck by another powerful quake. 

Everything happened in slow motion and in a matter of seconds. Gripping onto the edge of the doorway, Hermione locked eyes with Draco's across the bathroom. He pleaded silently through teary eyes and bore a gaze that shattered her glass heart into millions of crystal shards. 

_Please go. Don't see me like this._

Harry was closer to her end and warned her with a wordless glare to stay back. She watched in terror as the two took cover behind the stone pillars. Before she could scream at them to stop, she threw herself in the crossfire to shield Draco from whatever hex Harry had cast. Only, it wasn't a hex. No. At that exact moment, Hermione Jean Granger wished with all her heart and above anything that it _had_ been something else. 

"Stop—"

He roared a strange incantation with all the force he could muster. Then came a blinding explosion.

Pain. Pain of the utmost excruciating kind. The kind of pain you only felt when you were on the brink of death, and if you hadn't experienced that, the kind you would imagine to be the most unbearable and have you wishing you _were_ dead. Fire so hot it felt cold. It spread across her back like a raging fire burning in a brush forest. She swears on Godric she could feel and hear every slice as it tore through cloth and flesh. Her back arched with a disturbing crack as the spell struck her with the ferocity and precision of a lightning bolt. With a dull thud and mouth parted in a voiceless gasp, Hermione collapsed onto the bathroom floor. Water trickled through the front of her blouse as blood soaked the back. It was hard to tell whether the slices were bits of flesh or torn fabric. Her cheek rested against the cold tile, the smallest bit of relief from the insufferable ache that tormented her back. 

Every time she inhaled, the knives dug themselves deeper into her skin, ripping through flesh and piercing each individual bone and fastened nerve ending. Numbness. Burning. Tingling. Fire. Hot coal. Soreness. Aching. Suffocation. Buzzing. All the words that could describe what she was feeling in that instance couldn't amount to the severity of it. 

Too drunk on the pain, Hermione hadn't noticed Draco rush down to her side. He looked more terrified than before if that was even possible. She wanted nothing more than to ask if he was okay. If _he_ was unharmed—but she could hardly breathe without feeling a sharp tearing sensation shoot up her back. 

"Granger," Draco cried, a complete blubbering mess. His hands were shaking as he tried applying pressure to the wounds, knowing well it was a fruitless endeavor. He cast a Ferula charm in hopes of bandaging what he could. At least until help came. Someone would come. She choked on her own sobs, causing the inside of her mouth to taste faintly of metal. The water was tinted crimson from mingling with her blood. "Please, please please..." He didn't know what he was asking for or who he was begging to but he did so with all his might. 

_So much for being a stone-cold Slytherin now, right Malfoy?_ she thought in a daze. She would've smiled if it hadn't taken more than an ounce of her energy to do so. Everything around her felt like a dream, so distant yet undeniably present. 

Harry was still in shock. He began shaking his head like a broken clock. Whether it was from denial or horror of what he'd done, only he would know. He kneeled down to try and see if his best friend was alive. 

"Hermione—" he started.

Draco raised his wand to Harry's jugular and stared at him with a lethal scowl. " _Get_. _Out_." The words spilled venom through clenched teeth like fire from a pure dragon's mouth. He kept his voice low in fear of allowing his emotions to overcome him. "Get out before I kill you." 

"Stay alive," Harry muttered to no one in particular, almost incoherently because of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He forced himself out of the bathroom and hurried to find Professor Snape. 

Turning back to Hermione, Draco allowed his tears to flow freely. He had never felt as hopeless as he did at that moment. He tried all the healing charms he could think of with what little sanity he had left but it was pointless. Nothing was helping. The love of his life lay dying on the bathroom floor and he could do absolutely nothing. His hands trembled as they enveloped hers. Kissing the top of her hand, he drew it close to his chest and pleaded to someone, anyone. 

"Draco," Hermione whispered weakly. "Are you alright?" The bandages had managed to cover the open wounds but she was still bleeding like an open faucet. He couldn't find the source and he'd be damned if he could compose himself enough to think of the countercurse. 

Another sob wrenched out of him. "Don't talk. Please stay with me. Please, Hermione. Please. You're all I have..." 

A ghost of a smile graced her features. He rarely used her first name.

"And I, you." A tear rolled over the bridge of her nose as they gazed into one another. Hermione loosened the grip on his hand and drew it down his forearm. Fully soaked by the flooding of their surroundings, his blouse too had become transparent and clung to his skin. The wretched brand forced upon him against his will showed through the material. Her thumb traced the Mark delicately, a melancholy expression of sadness and despair painting itself on her face. She faltered at the pale vertical scar that stretched down the length of his arm. Her mind was whisked away to a past memory. 

Last month.

She'd found him in the Prefect's bathroom resting peacefully. But he wasn't asleep at all.

The bathwater was red and his face drained white.

He was no darker than the porcelain grave he was hellbent on digging for himself.

A few hours prior, Draco had told her of his desire to be alone that night. Hurt but his unusual demeanor, she stomped to the library in a flurry of pent up anger. If the Prefect's bathroom hadn't been on the same way she took back to the dorm, she would've—

No. Hermione couldn't bring herself to think about what would've happened. She didn't dare. She couldn't. 

"I'm sorry, Draco." Hermione's voice was dwindling through her tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you." 

He shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no. Hermione, come on." Grasping her hand once again, he kissed the inside of her wrist and brought her palm to his cheek, relishing the evanescent warmth it always brought him. "You're all I have left. Stay with me. Come on."

Hermione cupped the side of his face and let her fingertips brush across his cheek, soothing him for as long as she could. Wiping away a tear, she couldn't help but smile wistfully. His lips quivered like a child who was lost at the supermarket. The rims of his eyes were red and swollen, no doubt from the tears. The anguish that he'd been subjected to since being branded with the Mark was written over his face like an open book. Sallow skin, hollow cheeks, and shadows that chased every crevice of his features. Oh, how she loved his features. She often wondered if he was an alabaster sculpture brought to life. 

"Do you remember our first kiss?" she asked. Her eyelids were half-shut and drooping further. "I wouldn't trade that night for the world." The blood loss was getting to her. 

"Hermione?" Draco stuttered. "Hermione, please." 

Her eyes fluttered, resembling a butterfly's wings on its last flight. It took everything she had to stay conscious. Closing her eyes felt like solace. Cold but somehow warm. The dark felt peaceful.

"I love you, Draco." 

He stopped breathing for a moment. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to take the curse. He was supposed to be the one bleeding out. She was the one who was meant to be comforting him. He was meant to die, not Hermione. He should have been the one to surrender himself to death, not her. 

"Hermione—please, don't go," he begged once more. Cries and shrill screams bled through his words like spilled ink. "You can't. I—I love you, Hermione. I love you. I—please, stay. You can't leave me—" He was beginning to break. The last glimpse of whatever future he envisioned was fading along with her. 

The grip on her hands grew stronger. If he held onto her tighter, she'd stay. If he held on for just a bit longer, she'd make it. 

"Draco," she spoke softly. Too softly. Too quietly. "You have to live. You have to fight. For me." Her eyes were almost completely shut and he could barely make out the hazel in her eyes. The eyes he treasured and swore galaxies swirled in grew cloudy and fragile. With a shallow exhale, her chest rose and fell for the last time. Her hand grew limp in his grasp. The water stopped dripping from the burst pipes. The puddle ripples ceased. All stood abruptly still. 

Draco's eyes staggered. She was alive. She was okay. She had to be.

"Hermione." Initially a question, her name came out in the form of a monotonous hum. "Hermione," he repeated.

_She was okay._

_Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione._

Draco sat up to press her against him and buried his face into her damp curls. Roses and lilac blossoms with a hint of rainwater. The perfume he gifted her from Paris last year.

Sobs wrenched at his chest. Dementor claws. 

He continued whispering her name like an incantation.

_She was alive._

Slowly but surely, he crumbled. 

"Come back to me," he wept. "Please come back to me. Don't leave me alone. You swore, you promised—" His tears flowed down her neck and painted invisible streams of what could have been.

_She has to be._

Footsteps echoed from outside the hallway and Draco panicked. Clutching Hermione desperately to his chest, he shivered from the cold emptiness that engulfed his heart. The cloaked figure kneeled down and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. Looking up, Draco met the eyes of Snape. Strange—he could've sworn he saw a glint of compassion, even if it was just for just a moment.

As Draco broke into another bout of his sorrows, Severus began chanting an unfamiliar spell. It seemed almost melodic. _How painfully cynical_ , he thought. 

A surge of power suddenly spread below Draco's hands. Beneath her shredded clothes, he felt Hermione's wounds began stitching together. Her skin grew warmer and no longer felt frigid. Draco held her tighter and stroked her hair as softly as he could. A choked sob of desirous wonder escaped him. He felt it—a heartbeat pulse from her chest. It amplified in pace and strength. The color returned to her hands and veins. She was going to be okay. 

She had to be. 

_I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> I rushed through this in about five hours because I needed to get the feels out, so I apologize if there are any typos or grammatical errors. Originally, I wanted to do one where it follows canon and Draco gets hit with the curse but as I was writing, it kind of turned into this. *insert shrug emoji here


End file.
